Those Who Do Not Learn From The Past
by Mornel
Summary: Are doomed to repeat it...Three years after Christine left him the broken-hearted Erik has moved to the French Countryside. When a new servant girl arrives he is given a second chance at love, will he learn from his mistakes in time? Please R&R!
1. A new home

A/N: I don't own anyone except Claire...Enjoy.

The chandelier fell, slicing through the painted plaster ceiling. Claire ducked below her seat as one of the crystal ornaments grazed her head. Then there was fire, fire everywhere. As the smoke filled her eyes she looked around frantically for her father. She spotted him near the back of the theatre and blindly made her way towards him. People kept crashing into her as they ran past. No matter how hard she tried Claire couldn't run fast enough, it was like there were lead weights attached to her legs. Finally she reached the door and stumbled out of the opera house and into the blinding summer light. Then she saw it, just before it passed the corner, the wagon carrying her father's open coffin.

"NNNOOOOOOO, Papa!!!!" she screamed.

Suddenly strong arms grasped her shoulders.

"Don't worry child" sneered the voice. "I'll be your father now."

Claire spun around to face her step-father.

Then she heard them, the carriage wheels rolling across the cobblestones.

"Ah" her step-father said menacingly. "Here's the carriage to carry us home."

"NO!!!!!!!!!" she yelled and tried in vain to struggle against him.

With the light beginning to fade one last thought passed through Claire's mind, "this is the point of no return."

Claire sat blot upright, and looked around. The stable she had hidden in was much larger than she had realized in the dark. The first rays of dawn were coming in through the high windows illuminated six ornately carved stalls. She shook head as if to shake off the dream, the same one which she had for the last two years. As sleep began to recede from her mind she realized what had awoken her, the sound of carriage wheels. Nervously she looked around for a place to hide and finally decided on the stall at the end of the stable.

As Claire, with some difficulty, climbed over the gate she hoped to God that the horse inside was friendly. Crouching down and covering herself with hay she was relieved to see that the horse took no notice of her. After a few moments she heard the carriage coming closer and turned to watch it through a crack in the wood as it climbed up the gentle slope towards a large mansion. In the distance she heard the carriage door close and the front door of the house open. As soon as it closed the carriage took off again, this time heading directly towards the stable. Claire fidgeted nervously with the edge of her dress as she heard it stop right outside. Peaking through the hay and the boards of the stall she saw a tall thin man pull the stable doors opened and lead two horses inside. As the man put the equipment away Claire could see that he was on the verge of being elderly with grey hair and a wrinkled face. The look in his blue eyes showed a mix of fear and fatigue, as if he had just been through a stressful ordeal.

As soon as he locked the horses in their stalls and left, a middle aged woman entered carrying two pails of oats. She moved towards Claire's stall and opened the door. Claire held her breath, praying that the woman would not spot her. Although, in a sense she almost wished she would; Claire missed human contact and had reached the point where she would actually enjoy becoming a servant in a wealthy household. Claire smiled to herself, so much had changed in so short a time. As it was, Claire got her wish, for as the woman held up the bucket the horse spooked and began to stamp around the stall. As it neared the back corner Claire was left with no choice but to roll out of the way. She stood up and quickly, ducking the horse's head ran out of the stall.

"What's this?" the woman said with a twinkle in her eyes. "A stow away?"

Claire noticed that the woman was slightly rotund, with deep brown hair and warm and friendly face.

"More like a run-a-away" Claire replied with a grin.

The woman returned the grin, noting the young girl's beauty, slim figure, and her bruises.

"Ah, I see" she said returning to feed the now calm horse. "And where might this run-a-away be from?"

Claire was silent for a moment.

_These people are rural servants, if I tell them I'm from Paris they may shun me."_

"The Loire valley" she lied.

Deciding to help Claire picked up the other pail of oats and began to feed another horse.

"And does the run-a-away have a name?"

"Claire" she replied, enjoying the woman's kind disposition.

"And you are?" Claire asked.

"Rachel!" cried the old man.

"Yes Claude?"

"Who is this?" he asked, eying Claire suspiciously.

"Claire. Our newest servant" she replied calmly, ignoring the growing look of worry in Claude's eyes.

Claire blinked in surprise.

"Well YOU had better go and check it over with the Master, you know he does not like having too many servants" he said.

"Alright I will, just as soon as we're finished here and I get her all cleaned up."

Once they had finished cleaning the stables Claire and Rachel sat down to a lunch of fresh baked bread and cheese. Claire ate hungrily, not caring if she appeared rude or not.

"Are we going to meet the Master now?" Claire asked, eager to know if she had a home, and could finally stop running.

"No, you will see him tonight, he is awake at night" Rachel said, looking away.

"Alright" Claire replied slowly, now extremely curious to know what kind of man he was. "Why is he only awake at night?"

"So" Rachel said, ignoring her question and deciding it was time to change the subject. "Why and from what did you run away?"

Claire sighed and stared at her hands.

"I-"

"Claire, Rachel" called Claude as he made his way towards them. "The Master wishes the house to be cleaned and for it to be finished before nightfall so that he will not be disturbed when he gets home. He also said that it will be fine to keep another servant girl."

"Thank you Claude" Rachel said.

Claire felt a tinge of disappointment at not at least being able to meet this strange man. They finished their lunch and followed Claude up the slope. As they reached the top Claire was finally able to see the house by the light of day. During the previous night it had simply appeared as a black mass rising out of the ground, but now she could see that it was a beautiful grey stone home which looked like a cross between a manor and a castle. As they neared the large oak front doors Claire could see that all the drapes were drawn.

"_Odd" _she thought, especially since it was a beautiful sunny summer day.

They did not however enter the front doors, but instead went around the side to the servants entrance. Claude led them down a narrow stone hallway filled with several doors.

"I will show you your quarters later" he said.

He was now walking through the house at a brisk pace, and Claire was forced to jog to keep up. They passed rooms filled with beautiful paintings and tapestries, columns of polished marble and furniture of the finest woods.

"_This is the most beautiful home I've ever seen"_ she thought to herself. "_The only problem is that it's so dark." _

And it was very dark, with heavy burgundy curtains covering all the windows and the only light coming from the odd candle. Finally Claude stopped them in a huge parlor with a grand piano in the corner of the room.

"Claire, you are to dust and polish this room, then you will come to see me in the library and help me there. The library is upstairs on your left. Claire, are you listening to me?"

"Uh, what? Oh, I'm sorry" she replied, tearing her eyes away from the piano.

She had never been able to play very well and had given it up long ago, but she would still play sometimes, when no one was home.

Claude repeated the instructions and then added sternly. "Do not touch the piano except to clean it, do NOT play it."

Claire nodded as he shoved a bucket of cleaning supplies into her hands. Rachel gave her a weak smile and followed Claude out the door and closing it softly behind her. Having never done much cleaning before Claire was uncertain where to begin. She gazed around the room looking for a place to start. The high ceiling room contained a black leather couch centered between two mahogany chairs which were padded in ornate embroidery. There was a tapestry on the wall depicting a lord and lady on a beautiful summer picnic and on the floor an oriental carpet of green, blue and black. The focus of the room however, was not the beautiful furniture, but the large black grand piano that stood in the corner, silent and inviting. Claire decided, since it was the nicest piece in the room that she would clean it last.

Three hours later she was finished dusting, cleaning the floor and polishing the wood and silver. With the large curtains closed Claire had lost all sense of time, and it was only as the sun was beginning to set that she made her way to the piano. She ran her hands over its smooth black surface before picking up her dusting cloth. Half an hour later a yawn escaped her mouth as she finished dusting the last leg. Straightening up she gazed nervously at the keys, her hands unconsciously twisting the cloth. She dusted the first key, pressing it down lightly, unable to resist. The perfect middle C echoed through the room. To Claire it was the most beautiful sound she had heard in a long time. Slowly she moved up the scale, pushing each note down gently. Suddenly an idea struck her, and she smiled in the candlelight.

Instead of dusting the keys in order she would play a tune as she worked. Quietly Pachabel's Canon in D major resonated throughout the room. Claire was just about to start a new bar when the door burst open. She spun around.

"What are you doing?" said a man's voice.


	2. The Master

Claude swept across the room and grabbed her wrist.

"What did I tell you? DON'T PLAY THE PIANO!!!!"

Claire was about to say something witty, but the look of terror in his eyes stopped her. Then she heard it, the carriage wheels approaching.

"Are you finished in here?" he asked her sternly, still holding on to her wrist.

She nodded and stared at the ground.

"Took you long enough" he spat, "you were supposed to meet me in the library, but you took so long in here that I cleaned it myself, it's already dark outside."

He walked to the window and yanked back one of the curtains. The last rays of the sun were just fading behind the slope.

"Come on" he said, once again grabbing her wrist.

Claire grabbed her bucket and followed him out of the room, inwardly cursing herself for getting caught. As they made their way across the landing one of the huge oak doors opened. Claire looked over the railing, eager to see the Master of this strange household. A man walked through the doors, but much to Claire's disappointment it was too dark to see his face. Just then Claude grabbed her arm and told her to wait for him at the end of the hall. Not wanting to be fired on her first day she reluctantly obeyed. She had just passed the landing when a voice called out,

"Claude!"

Claire paused. It was not really the voice that sounded familiar, but the way it echoed in the large hall. Making her way towards the end of the hall Claire racked her brain to try and figure out who it was. She prayed to God that it was not anyone she knew, she could not afford to be sent home, she rather die then go back there.

That night, sitting comfortably in the servants quarters Claire was able to meet the rest of the staff. There was Paul, the doorman and coachman, Jean the chef, and finally Liz, the pretty young maid.

"So what is my job exactly?" she asked Rachel over a game of cards.

"To do anything we need. You'll probably do a lot of cleaning. This house is so large that as soon as you're done cleaning the first part it's dirty again."

Claire smiled, one of her maids had always used to complain about that too.

"Well it's best we get some rest, it'll be a long day tomorrow" Rachel said.

Claire cleaned up the cards and went to her room. As she lay in bed listening to the crickets, Claire felt a sense of relaxation wash over her. For the first time in three months the morning promised a roof over her head and food in her stomach.

It was almost a week before Claire was in the piano room again. The last few days had been spent cleaning the stables, going into town to buy clothes and supplies, and cleaning the rest of the house. To her delight the rest of the house was as beautifully decorated as the piano room, and had an almost medieval castle quality to it. Everyday there was a new room to discover with small winding staircases and candle lit passage ways. She learned from Liz that the Master only liked candle light and hated gas lamps. But so far, that was all she had learned about this mysterious man, and could not get another piece of information out of any of the other servants.

Kneeling on the floor of the piano room Claire reached for the small candelabra on the wooden table and soaked it in the hot water. As she scrubbed the wax off she began to sing very quietly, not being very good at it and not wanting anyone to hear her.

"Passed the point of no return, no going back now…" and then she began to hum the tune because she could not remember the rest of the words. She slowly became aware that she was not the only one humming. She stopped and listened. Silence.

She hummed again. Nothing.

Claire stood up and spun around. A little scream escaped her lips, which was then shortly followed by a laugh. Rolling her eyes she smiled at her own childishness. She had been startled by her own reflection in the full length mirror that lay against the back wall. Grinning at herself she turned around again and continued cleaning.

Once she had finished polishing she tentatively headed towards the piano. It just looked so inviting, the smooth black top, the polished ivory keys. Claire glanced quickly around. She went to the door, opened it and stuck her head out. The hallway was empty. Closing the door she returned to the piano and ran her fingers lightly over the keys.

"Passed the point of no return" she sang quietly.

She hit a note. It was the wrong one.

"Passed" she sang again.

She hit another note.

"_Got it"_ she thought excitedly to herself.

She had just figured out the tune to the first line when she sensed someone else in the room. She froze as a sense of foreboding filled her, her right had still poised above the keys.

"How do you know that song?" said a man's voice. The voice was smooth and quiet, yet carried the slightest hint of danger.

Claire turned slowly around. She began to tremble.

There, standing in front of her was a man dressed all in black, except for a white mask that covered half his face.


	3. Fear

As she gazed at the carpet the memory of her dream flashed through her mind.

"Stay calm," her mind screamed. "Do not let him know you know who he is. Just tell him the truth."

Claire took a deep breath.

"I-I was there the night…" she paused, unsure of how to describe that fateful night. She decided not to mention the chandelier.

"The night Don Juan Triumphant was performed."

She continued to stare at the floor. When he didn't answer she looked up to find him gazing at her, a mix of wonder and anger playing in his eyes.

"And the song was stuck in my head, so I was tried to figure out the tune" she continued.

He took a step forward.

"I've very sorry" she said quickly.

"You're the new girl aren't you?" he asked taking a few more steps towards her.

With her eyes still on the floor Claire nodded.

"What is your name child?" he demanded softly.

"Claire" she replied.

In two more strides he had covered the distance between them. However, despite her fear Claire did not back away.

"Well Claire" he whispered.

Claire sucked in her breath at the way he said her name, so smoothly, so beautifully. She looked up to find herself looking into two deep blue eyes.

"Don't ever let me catch you playing that piano again" he hissed in her ear. She could hear the suppressed anger in his voice.

Claire nodded, her frightened eyes still staring into his.

"Now get out!"

Without hesitation Claire picked up her cleaning supplies and ran out of the room.

She was halfway to the servants quarters before she stopped running. Slumping against the wall she tried to catch her breath. She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself, but all she could see was the mask and those fiery blue eyes staring back at her.

"It's the Phantom of the Opera!!" her mind screamed. "He's the master of this house."

Suddenly she was overcome by embarrassment, regret and relief, and she sunk to the floor.

"_How could I be so stupid to be caught playing "The Point of No Return" by the Phantom himself? I'm probably lucky he didn't kill me. He wrote that song for Christine Daae, who ended up marrying the Vicomte de Chagny_ _ anyways, and here I am in HIS house playing that song on HIS piano."_

As Claire's mind rambled on she could not help feeling very very lucky that he did not harm her, or worse send her away.

In order to avoid the rest of the servants, and especially the Master she spent the rest of the evening cleaning everything in sight. Once she was sure that everyone had gone to bed she quietly crept into her room and tried to go to sleep.

Erik sat on the piano bench staring after her. His own actions had confused him. He should have been furious with her, have thrown her out of his house and left her to die in the wilderness. But he hadn't, he hadn't even yelled at her. Perhaps it was the look in her eyes when she first saw him. A mix of amazement and fear had crossed her face, but not horror. If she knew who he was she had hidden it well for he was still unsure. When he had approached her she had not backed away. No one had ever stood their ground against him. One look at her had told him that she had not long been a servant girl.

Then suddenly he knew. She had been afraid of him, but not his mask. She had stood her ground because there was something she was more frightened of then him. Something in her own dark past.

And that song. When he heard those notes it had torn open a scar he had been trying for so long to heal. But sitting here in the room now he saw it in a different light. This girl had remembered the song, three years after its one and only performance. It brought him some small satisfaction that at least someone had enjoyed it, and appreciated it.

Erik sat in the dark until he heard a clock ring twelve somewhere in the house. Sighing quietly he picked up his cloak, pulled the up the hood and headed towards the mirror. As he slid it closed behind him the smallest flicker of a smile passed over his lips, this girl was far too fascinating to let go now, not until he had a least learned her secrets.


	4. Questions

A/N: I forgot to mention that this story will be based more on the movie info than the book.

As Claire sat down to breakfast the next morning she quickly discovered that none of the other servants had heard about her incident the night before. They all acted kindly towards her, and even Claude was nice enough to give her a second helping of eggs. Over the next few days Claire kept to her chores and far far away from the piano room. As soon as the sunset she would return to the servants quarters not wanting to run into the Master. On Sunday, two weeks after she had arrived, Claire went to morning mass at the church with the other servants. Once the service was over she and Liz explored the town, it being the first time Claire had spoken with people outside of the manor since she had arrived. That night Claire went to sleep, feeling that at last she could start her life anew and forget the past.

"Claire!" Claude called to her.

She looked up from her mopping.

"Yes?"

"When you are done here go and clean the library" he ordered.

She quickly finished cleaning the floor and headed up the stairs. Grabbing hold of the smooth brass handle she swung the large oak door open. Claire had never seen one person own so many books. There were shelves upon shelves of books towering to the ceiling. Gazing at the titles Claire soon realized that the Master owned books on every imaginable subject, science, history, art, astronomy, magic, religion; the list went on. Although she was filled with the desire to sit down in one of the plush leather chairs and read she quickly pushed the feeling aside, grabbed a cloth and started dusting.

Claire had just begun scrubbing the floor when she heard the door open. To afraid to look up she kept her eyes on the floor. It was only when she heard the door close softly did she dare to look up. Peaking up over the table she was surprised to see the Master still in the room, his back to her as he searched for a book.

"Have you seen Plato's Republic?" he asked quietly without turning around.

Claire got up and began searching the shelves behind her. She pulled out a beautiful leather bound book with gold etching on the spine.

"It's here" she said nervously walking over to him.

As she approached he did not turn around.

"_Maybe he's not wearing the mask" _she thought.

She extended her shaking arm to hand him the book. In a swift movement he took the book and grabbed her wrist at the same time. Claire drew in a shaky breath. She did her best to hide the fear in her eyes and was certain that he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Erik pulled in her in so that his face was an inch from hers. She tried avoided his eyes, but when he gave her another tug she was forced to look up.

"Why did you lie to the servants?" he asked angrily.

Claire blinked in confusion.

"You are obviously not from the Loire Valley and are clearly NOT a servant girl" he continued, a cruel smile appearing on his lips as he uttered the last phrase.

Her mind was frozen. She opened and closed her mouth but no words came out. Claire closed her eyes, too afraid to look at him anymore. Her breath came out in raged gasps. He tightened his grasp on her wrist and twisted it a little. Claire winced in pain.

"Well?" he asked.

She was left with no choice but to tell him the truth, knowing that she could have thought of a good lie anyways. He released her wrist and she nearly fell to the floor. Glancing over at her pail of water he motioned for her to continue to clean as she told her story. He followed her across the room and sat in the chair closest to her so that she was forced to scrub the floor at his feet.

"I told the servants I was from the Loire Valley because" she paused to take a deep breath, dipping the cloth into the soapy water. "because if they knew that I was from Paris they would have teased me and not spoken to me. Rural servants never like servants from the cities."

Looking up she was relieved to see that he appeared satisfied with her answer. Several minutes of silence passed, and Claire could feel his eyes boring into her.

"How did you get tickets to Don Juan?" he asked finally.

Claire could tell from the tone of his voice that he had been debating with himself whether or not to revisit this subject.

"My father" she closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

Erik tilted his head, now very curious.

"and some of his business associates shared a pair of season tickets. They divided them up" she wrung out the cloth, "so that each family was able to go and see 3 or 4 performances a year. I was just lucky…" she stopped.

"_Lucky? God, what a stupid thing to say. Only my friends thought I was lucky.."_

"…enough to get to see that show" she finished quickly.

"Lucky?" he asked, now looking both angry and amused.

"_Damn, he picked up on that!" _

"Well" she scratched her head. "I had heard rumors that something…um…out of the ordinary might occur at this performance."

"Like what?" he pressed on.

"_Bloody hell, he's going to make me say it isn't he."_

Claire bit her lip and stared hard at the floor.

"That the opera ghost might make an appearance" she said in one swift breath, failing miserably at trying to sound calm.

"And did he?"

Claire wanted to fall through the floor. Suddenly she felt a wave of frustration come over her, she had had enough of this game.

"I think so" she said shrugging causally. "But I was a bit distracted by the chandelier falling."

Her last sentence had come out harsher than she had meant it too. As she continued to scrub the floor she failed to see the smile that crossed Erik's face.

"_This girl has some spirit in her, she's brave but foolish" _he thought to himself. "_though very smart."_

He still could not tell if her answer had been directed at him or if she was just tired of his questions. Erik was frustrated that his questioning had not worked, still unsure if she knew his true identity.

Another ten minutes passed in complete silence. Claire glanced up to find him deep in thought. She smiled to herself, proud that she had been able to stump him.

"Why did you run away from home?" he asked finally.

Her head snapped up at the very personally question. She gave him an odd look, knowing that this was not a usual question to ask a servant.

"My father…two weeks after…" she could not find the words.

Tears stung her eyes and she willed herself not to cry. Erik shifted impatiently in his chair. Suddenly the words just spilled out of her. It being the first time she had told her story to anyone.

"My father died two weeks after the performance of Don Juan. My mother married a year later" she said bitterly. "My step father and I…" Claire chose her words carefully. "We did not get along well…and so I left."

She looked up to find Erik gazing down at her with an amused look on his face. Erik could tell from the look in her deep brown eyes that his smile angered her. She thought that he saw her as a spoiled rich girl. As she locked her gaze with his, a stony look came across her face, completely devoid of emotion. Two could play at this game. Erik's smile widened as he realized in the candlelight that she was really quite beautiful when she was angry.

Her smooth tanned face was framed by straight light brown hair. The plain blue dress accentuated her thin curved body and was cut just low enough to reveal the top of her well developed breasts. To his delight Erik noticed that her fists were clenched in frustration and anger. He had the sudden urge to grab her and kiss her, but quickly dismissed that thought from his head.

"So" he said slowly, savouring her anger. "You gave up everything, your comfortable middle-class life in the prime of your youth to become a rural servant girl in a far away manor?"

She shrugged and nodded.

His face softened, surprised by how quickly she had been able to confirm that.

"You are brave" he said kindly, the cruelty and sarcasm gone from his voice.

Claire looked away, surprised by the complement. The hint of a smile passed across her lips.

"People do what they have to do, but thank you" she replied in a whisper and giving him an admiring look.

In a flash the cold look returned to his face and she looked away. Without another word he hauled himself out of the chair and headed towards the door. Opening it he turned back around and said with a cruel smile, "oh, and Claire, don't even think about reading any of the books."

A/N: I will write more soon. Thanks so much to everyone that has reviewed.


	5. Music in the night

Over the next couple of weeks Erik unwillingly found himself becoming rather intrigued by Claire. It was the first time since Christine had left him that he had had any interest in a woman. However it was in no sense a growing like or love, but instead a simple curiosity. Yet, he thought oddly, it had inspired him to write music again and in the middle of the night he would sit at his piano and play.

Despite his curiosity, he refrained from having any conversations with her, and only spoke to her when giving orders. Erik instead took pleasure in watching her, studying her, sometimes with her knowledge, sometimes without. Although she had been vague about her reasons for running away Erik quickly concluded that something much worse than a simple animosity between her and her stepfather must have occurred to drive her away. She was hard working, keeping to her chores and quickly learning the new skills required to be a servant. Claire would often hum while she worked but Erik noticed that she was careful never to hum a tune from any performance at the Opera house, especially Don Juan.

Her face was often set with a look of steely determination and only once had he ever seen her smile. One morning after she had just mopping the floor Claude had gone running by, and, slipping on the wet marble crashed into a suit of armour at the end of the hall, nearly impaling himself on its axe. Gazing through a secret window in his bedroom door he saw a smile light up her face and heard soft laughter escape her lips. However, other than that, even in the presence of the other servants she did not smile.

Yet it was not her lack of expression that intrigued him, but her lack of emotion. He had never seen her cry, not even when she thought that she was alone. Erik had never heard her curse or cry out in frustration despite having left everyone and everything she had ever known.

"_She's strong" _he thought to himself, _"to keep her dark passed so hidden within her."_

However, despite all his watching Erik never saw her alone in her room at night, the time when she let her real emotions show.

Claire lay in her bed unable to sleep. She was exhausted but fought sleep because in sleep the dreams would come. Crying herself to sleep had worked best, exhausting her mind and her body so that it was harder for the memories to surface. Closing her eyes she shifted restlessly beneath her soft linen sheets. And then she heard it…the music.

Sitting up she strained to listen. Very faint piano notes resonated through the house and down to her room. Quietly she got out of bed and pulled a blanket around her. Even though it was summer there was always a chill in this large house.

Opening the door she peered out into the darkness of the servants quarters. Only silence followed her as she walked down the hallway towards the stairs. As she climbed the winding stairs to the second floor the music grew louder. Using the light of the moon to guide her she slowly crept closer to the piano room door. Claire could now hear every note perfectly. Pressing her ear to the door she closed her eyes and let the sound wash over her. It was the most beautiful piece she had ever heard. Gathering her blanket around her she sat down on the floor, leaning against the cold stone wall behind her. She breathed out a sigh of relief as a sense of calm and peace washed over her, something she had not felt in a long time.

As soon as the song ended a new one began. Claire smiled to herself just before she let sleep claim her, she was being privy to a private concert by played the Phantom of the Opera himself.


	6. When She Hummed

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I have so much work to do. Thanks for your patients everyone, I really appreciate it.

Claire woke with a start. The music had stopped and the first light of dawn was just beginning to creep through the large front windows. Stretching her stiff muscles she pulled her blanket tightly around her and headed back down to her room. Quietly shutting the door behind her Claire lay on her bed and waited for the rest of the servants to wake up. Lying back she felt more relaxed and well rested since before her father had died.

That night Claire couldn't wait for the rest of the servants to go to sleep. Finally, after beating Rachel at a game of cards Claude decided that it was time for bed, and everyone followed. Claire was so eager to hear the music again that she was nearly caught by Liz, who had woken up and was going to the kitchen for a drink of water. As soon as Claire heard her door close she snuck back up to the piano room. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the music drifting down the hall. Just as on the previous night she sat down on the floor to listen. The music was filled with passion and she could hear the haunting mix of grief and loneliness, joy and happiness, as the dynamics of the music changed.

About an hour later the music stopped and she heard him get up and walk around the room. Worried that he might open the door and find her sitting there Claire decided to return to her own room. Curling up in her bed Claire fell asleep with a smile on her face, the music still playing in her head.

Over the next week Claire quickly developed a pattern. She would wait until all the servants were asleep, creep upstairs, listen to the music for an hour and return to bed. She was drawn to the music and felt that she could no longer sleep without first hearing it. One clear night, as Claire sat huddled on the floor she heard a new sound echo through the door…his voice. Claire sat bolt upright. It was just as she had remembered it that night at the Opera house, beautiful, seductive and smooth. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, feeling as if she could listen to him sing forever. In a matter of moments Claire was lost in the music and his voice. She was not even aware what he was singing about. Her mind drifted into a state of total relaxation and it was only on the brink of sleep did she realize what the song was about…it was a lullaby.

Three days later on a beautiful sunny summer afternoon Claire and Liz were doing the laundry and happily discussing the weather.

"It's so nice and warm out today" Rachel exclaimed.

"I know" Claire replied. "I wish the Master had us do more work outside."

"So do…"

Rachel stopped mid sentence. The Master had just entered the room, they could feel his presence, they always could. Claire and Rachel quickly put down the clothes and turned around. He stood in the doorway, dressed impeccably as always with his dark hair slicked back and pure white mask perfectly in place. Claire swallowed and looked away, not because of his mask, but she was afraid that he knew about her nightly adventures.

"Claude is in town on business" he said plainly. "So I will need you two to prepare my carriage. It will be ready at dusk."

Both women nodded in unison. Claire looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes roamed her face, as if trying to memorize her features.

"I'm glad to see that you are looking better Claire, you looked a bit pale and sickly when you arrived" he said kindly.

However he didn't receive the shy look he thought he would, instead he received a look of worry and fear.

"Thank you sir" she whispered quietly, looking away.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Still puzzled, he left them to return to the laundry. As Erik contemplated her reaction a new though popped into his head.

"_She always looks at my eyes, never at my mask the way the others do."_

Pushing his thoughts of her aside Erik returned to his room to prepare for his journey.

After a quick dinner of roast chicken and potatoes Claire and Rachel headed down to the stables. They saddled the horses in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Where is the Master going?" Claire asked as they led them out to the carriage.

"I don't know" Rachel replied, "I never know, he's very secretive that one."

She flashed Claire a grin and went back to the stables to grab some more equipment. As Claire stood holding the horses one of them suddenly became restless.

"Shhhh, shhhh" she cooed, petting him on the nose.

Then in an effort to calm him down she began to hum the song that Erik had played on the previous night. It seemed to work and the horse stood still. Rachel returned with the equipment and they began to harness them to the carriage. Paul arrived and climbed into the driver's seat. Erik arrived shortly after, behind the carriage and out of Claire's view.

"Good evening Master" Rachel said as he approached. "Your carriage is almost ready."

"Good" he replied flatly.

And then he heard it, her humming. Erik stood on the step of the carriage and watched Claire. She seemed oblivious to his presence, although he knew she wasn't. He watched as she continued to harness the horses and check the ropes, all the while smiling, and humming to herself.

Rachel looked up at the Master for a moment before walking around the carriage to help Claire. She elbowed Claire gently. Claire turned to look at her and stopped humming. Rachel motioned for her to look at the Master. Claire looked up to find him staring very intently at her, a mix of amusement and curiosity on his face. Now it was Claire's turn to be confused, and it was reflected in her features. Silently Erik gave her a nod and the smallest hint of a smile before slipping into the carriage and closing the door behind him.

As the carriage pulled away Rachel gave her a questioning look.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Nothing" Claire replied shrugging.

"Be careful" Rachel said, her cheery face suddenly serious. "He's dangerous man."

Claire gave her a reassuring smile.

"_If only you knew"_ Claire thought to herself as they headed up the slope back to the house.

That night, as Claire changed into her nightgown she was afraid that she would not be able to sleep. However, as she lay down in her bed and closed her eyes she could hear his voice in her head, and with the memory of his lullaby she fell asleep.

Erik returned home two days later. However, instead of entering the house through the front door he went through a secret door at the side of the house. Following his tunnels he soon arrived behind the mirror in the piano room. He was about to walk through when Claire entered the room, cleaning supplies in hand. Erik watched her for a while as she dusted the furniture, again humming one of his songs.

"_She is drawn to the music" _he though, suddenly enjoying his long lost feeling of power

With a growing smile he watched as she made her way slowly towards the piano. Claire sat down at the piano bench and glanced around the room to make sure no one was there. Erik held his breath, wondering if she was foolish enough to play it again. She lifted her fingers to the keys, but instead of hitting them she moved her hands above them, playing a silent song. Suddenly Erik knew what to do, what he want to do. But that would have to wait till tonight.

Can anyone guess what it will be???

Thanks so much for the reviews everyone.


	7. No Going Back Now

A/N: Thanks so much for the review guys...and yes...some of you did guess right.

Erik watched silently as the moon began to creep above the trees, lost in his own thoughts. He didn't even know why he was going to do it. Maybe it was because he missed the feeling of having complete control over someone. Maybe it was because he was just bored. Maybe, just maybe it was because he felt he had been given a second chance. Erik shook his head so violently at this last thought that he nearly dislodged his mask. Carefully pushing it back into place he turned from the window with a small sigh.

He was a little nervous.

"Weak_" _he said to himself. "You're being foolish and weak."

But still he could not shake his nerves. At last the small clock rang twelve. Taking one last deep breath he sat down at the piano and began to play.

Thirty minutes later he stopped, walking loudly across the room towards his supply of ink bottles. He paused for a moment and then crept quietly towards the door.

At five minutes to twelve Claire gently closed her bedroom door behind her and crept up the stairs. Reaching the door she settled down on the floor and waited. A moment later she heard him walking and the scrapping of the piano bench against the wooden floor. Then he began to play. It was a new song one she had never heard before. She closed her eyes and let out a long relaxing breath.

Sometime later the music stopped. She was about to stand up when she heard his footsteps walking in the other direction, towards the back of the room. Relaxing, she sat back down on the floor to wait. When the music didn't start again she impatiently looked towards the door and to her horror, saw the handle begin slide. Before she could move the door swung open.

Erik swept out into the hall. Claire froze; a look of horror on her face. She looked up at him with wide eyes as his large figure loomed above her. The light of the room glowed softly behind him, hiding his face in darkness. Claire was unable to see the amusement that played in his bright blue eyes. Regaining her senses Claire jumped to her feet. Her mouth moved but no words came out.

"I-I-I'm sorry" she whispered in a shaky voice her hands clutching her blanket protectively around her. "I-I- just want to listen."

A moment of silence passed.

"Come" Erik said as he extending a gloved hand to her.

Claire looked up at him and then quickly down at his hand.

"_She's really quite beautiful" _he thought, as he watched the moonlight dance across her worried face.

Claire reached out towards him but then pulled her hand back.

"_Just like Christine did"_ he thought bitterly.

Yet somewhere in his mind Erik was aware of the fact that Claire knew that if she took his hand there would be no turning back.

Taking a deep breath Claire slowly extended her hand.

"_This is the point of no return!"_ his voice suddenly rang out in her head. Claire blinked wondering if he had actually sung it out loud or not. Suddenly she was tired of living a shelter and boring life and she was ready to leave dark her past behind.

Pushing her last doubts aside she placed her hand delicately in his. In the moonlight Claire saw a seductive smile cross his face as he led her into the piano room and closed the door behind them.

Erik turned back to look at her and saw that instead of the wide eyed look of wonder Christine had had Claire had a look of almost excitement on her face. Erik looked into her deep brown eyes and she met his gaze. The smallest touch of a smile appeared on her lips. Encouraged Erik flashed her another seductive smile.

"Come" he mouthed to her.

He went and stood behind the piano bench, still holding her hand.

"Sit."

Claire looked at him curiously, but nonetheless obeyed. Releasing her hand he swept around the bench and sat down beside her. Claire looked up at him, her mind completely blank yet racing at the same time.

"Do you know how to play child?" he asked softly.

She rubbed her fingers together nervously.

"A little."

"Play me something" he whispered in her ear.

Claire breath caught in her throat and her eyes closed. His voice…it was so beautiful.

When she didn't move he gently took her hands and placed them on the keys.

A/N: I promise to update soon. Please review!


	8. The Piano Lesson

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews everyone.

Claire's hands trembled.

"I" she put her hands back in her lap and stared at her fingers. "I don't remember how to play anything by heart."

Erik remained silent, he himself unsure of what to say. Thinking that he was either angry or disappointed Claire put her hands back up to the keys and studied the piece of music in front of her. The right hand didn't seem too difficult. Taking one final breath Claire played the first line of music and then stopped.

"Why did you stop?" he asked sharply but looking pleased nonetheless.

Claire shrugged embarrassed and quickly turned back to the music.

"I'm glad to see that you are able to read notes" he said in an attempt to calm her jittery nerves.

For the first time in almost a month Erik saw her smile and it touched his icy heart to know that she had smiled because of him. Claire resumed playing the piece until she reached a difficult part, stopping again with a frown on her face.

"It's alright, that's a difficult piece."

Erik got up and after shuffling through a pile of papers pulled out a sheet of music.

"Here, try playing this" he said sitting back down and placing it in front of her.

Claire looked at the piece curiously, there was no title and the ink still looked wet. Slowly she worked her way through the piece, every so often Erik stopping her to correct something. When she was finished he made her play it twice more. Erik smiled to himself as he saw Claire finally begin to relax, begin to look happy.

"It's beautiful, what's it called?" she asked looking up at him.

Erik hated to have his music questioned.

"It doesn't have a name" he snapped, his voice coming out harsher than he had intended.

"Oh"

Erik cursed at himself as he watched Claire shrink back a little and stare at the keys.

"Who's it by?" she asked timidly.

"I wrote it" he replied flatly.

Claire's head snapped up. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were kind.

"Did you just write it tonight? For me to practise on?" she exclaimed, her eyes shinning.

"No" he growled, he blue eyes becoming cold. "I didn't write it just for _you_."

The light in her eyes vanished and the color drained from Claire's face. There was an awkward pause, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock.

"I'm sorry" she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you very much for the lesson. I think I should go to bed now."

Gathering up her blanket Claire quickly walked towards the door. With her hand on the handle she turned back to him. He was still sitting on the piano bench staring after her.

"I'm sorry" she repeated hanging her head. "That was very vain of me."

Erik's face remained devoid of emotion. Nervously she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as her heard the click of the door Erik let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

"You weren't being vain" he whispered to the air. "I did write it for you."

A/N: coming next...Erik and Claire's thoughts on their little lesson and a strange discovery is made.


	9. Thoughts

Claire lay in bed tossing and turning. She felt frightened, embarrassed and childish, but most of all foolish. Who did she think she was, the next Christine Daae? Rolling over she buried her face in her pillow. Not that she wanted to be the next Christine…or did she? Claire punched her pillow in frustration.

"Why?" she asked the dark. "Why did I have to go and ruin a perfectly…" she paused trying to think of the right words. "A perfectly pleasant moment."

But even as she said it she knew it wasn't right. It had been pleasant but also fun, frightening, tense and kind, it had been a million emotions all rolled into one.

"_Like him" _she thought to herself. _"He's always so cold and curt stalking around the house and the next moment he's still that way yet kind enough to give me a piano lesson in the middle of the night."_

Sighing Claire knew she wouldn't be able to figure him out tonight. With one last punch to the pillow she flopped down onto the mattress and finally fell asleep.

Erik sat on the piano bench long after she'd gone. He didn't know why he had written a song for her. Why he had so feverishly denied it when she'd asked. Some part of him had wanted to tell her, to show her that he cared, even if it was only a little, but the other part had gained control, had suddenly barred the gates, terrified of being betrayed again.

With a sigh Erik took off his mask and rubbed the rough side of his face.

"_Wonderful Erik, it only took you one hour to frighten her away. Good way to earn her trust" _he accused himself.

He could still feel her warm body next to his. Erik squeezed his eyes closed, trying to push the memory away.

"_You are a monster and nothing more. Why did you think that she would be any different from the rest, why did you think that she would not be frightened of you?"_

Of course in the deepest parts of his mind Erik knew that he had only himself to blame, he had snapped at her, his anger had scared her, only pride would never let him admit it.

As the clock struck three he stood up and stretched his stiff muscles. There was always tomorrow, he could try again tomorrow. Even if she was always scared, at least teaching her piano was something to do, a way to pass the time.

Claire was awoken the next morning to a pair of small arms shaking her violently.

"Wake up!" Liz cried.

Claire opened her eyes and blinked against the bright sunshine that flooded her room.

"It's Saturday!"

"Oh right" Claire replied, slowly crawling out of bed.

All the servants loved Saturdays, for Erik would only make them work for half the day, giving them the rest of the afternoon to do as they pleased.

After breakfast Claire and Liz did the laundry. Once they were finished Liz went off to water the gardens and Claire was left to clean the piano room. Yawning she opened the door and looked around. It was empty. Glancing at the piano she saw that the piece she'd been practicing was still there. She gave the parchment a sad smile before turning away to wash the floors.

Sometime later Claire stood up and stretched her back. All she had left to do was clean the mirror and she was finished for the day. Excited to return to bed she hurried over to the mirror and began to scrub it vigorously. Suddenly it moved and Claire's finger got pinched in the frame.

"Ouch!" she cried, sucking on her bruised pinky.

In her sleep deprived state it took her a moment to realize that the mirror had…moved? Claire blinked at the small black slit that had appeared on the opposite side. Wrapping her fingers around it she pushed the glass aside.

Claire stared dumbfounded at the scene before her. Behind the mirror was a dark stone passageway. Candelabras were mounted on the walls, but none of the candles were lit. Had she not known that the Master was the Phantom of the Opera she would have been quite disturbed, but instead she was highly amused. Glancing behind her to make sure she was alone she tentatively stepped into the passageway. She turned around and was surprised to find that she could see through the mirror into the piano room. Grinning, Claire was about to take another step when she heard a noise outside the door. Quickly she jumped back out and silently shut the mirror. Using her rag she wiped away her fingerprints and headed towards the door.

Claude nearly ran her over as he came bursting into the room.

"What's been taking you so long?" he snapped, eying her suspiciously.

"Nothing. I just like to do my job well."

Brushing past him she gave him a smirk and walked away down the hall.

"I raise you two" Paul said.

"Fine" Claude said calmly, doing his best to keep a good poker face.

Everyone had finished their chores for the day and all the servants were sitting in the kitchen playing cards.

"I fold" Claire said getting up from the table. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."

She headed out the door before any of the others could say a word.

"Bit of an odd one she is" she heard Rachel tell the rest.

Claire simply rolled her eyes, they had no idea.

After retrieving her cloak from the clothes line Claire hurried through the entrance hall, doing it up as she went.

"Where do you think your going?" a voiced boomed.

Claire's blood froze. She spun around and looked up the stairs. Erik stood at the top, framed by the light of the setting sun. He looked beautiful yet terrifying at the same time, his cold blue eyes gazing down at her. Claire opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

"Did you think that you would become a great pianist after just one lesson?" he sneered making his way down the stairs.

"Come" his tone softened. "You still have much to learn."

"But I…after…you" Claire stuttered, unable to form a sentence.

Erik silenced her with a look.

"Do you want to learn or not" he snapped.

He mentally slapped himself as he saw her shrink back once again.

Claire looked at the floor and nodded.

"Then come."

With a swish of his cloak he headed back up the stairs, a very nervous Claire following behind.

A/N: sorry for the uber long delay between posts...i promise to update again soon. Please review!...i appriciate the feedback. Thank so much.


	10. Questions and Options

With the start of piano lessons Claire's life began a new routine. Three nights a week Erik would teach her and on the other nights she would practice on her own. Claire soon began to find herself living for those lessons. Erik was cold and demanding but the chill it gave her of sitting beside him was a welcome break form the monotony of her daily chores.

Sighing Claire continued to wash the dishes. Try as she might she could not find satisfaction in the simple servant life, having grown far too accustom to her old life, one of privilege. Drying the last pot she quickly dried her hands and headed up to the piano room. As she approached the door a beautiful but mournful melody reached her ears. Reaching her destination Claire let out another sigh, Erik was already there playing, and would surely not want to be disturbed. She was just about to leave when the music stopped and Erik's voice drifted through the door.

"Claire you can come in."

Startled she turned back and poked her head in. The room was lit by several candles, most of which she noted with dismay were dripping wax on her newly cleaned floor. As usual all the curtains were drawn, blocking out the summer night. Erik sat at the piano wearing, aside from his mask, only a white shirt and black silk pants; it was too hot even for him to be wearing his usual dress suit.

"Well come in and sit down" he said impatiently, his blue eyes glittering in the dark.

Obediently Claire closed the door behind her and rushed to his side.

"What would you like to practise today?" he asked softly.

"But- but it's Thursday" she stammered.

Erik only taught her on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

"I am aware of that fact" he snapped. "Do you want an extra lesson or not?"

Claire chewed on her lip.

"I do" a sudden sadness filling her eyes.

Erik was always so distant and cold. Finding only simple friendship with the other servants Claire longed for a true friendship, but that was clearly not to happen with Erik. The lesson however, went very well that day, Erik seeming to be in a slightly better mood than usual. As the lesson came to an end Claire took a deep breath, deciding that today would be the day to ask, she needed something to help fill the void.

"Sir?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes" he replied a hint of curiosity in his voice.

He could tell from her trembling figure that it had taken Claire the last three weeks to build up the courage to ask him anything. She had not said more than two words at a time to him since he had snapped at her during that first lesson.

Claire took a long calming breath. Erik tapped the piano impatiently.

"I was wondering if I may borrow a book from your library."

Erik was taken aback by the question. As she looked up at him expectantly Erik's stomach gave a lurch. She had not looked him in the face since that night either.

"Which one?"

Claire opened and closed her mouth silently.

"I didn't have a particular one in mind Sir."

Erik studied her for a moment and considered his options. If he said yes then perhaps she would not be so timid around him, if he said no then he knew it was over and she would never say more than two words to him, never look him in the face again. The moment she glanced up and caught his eye he made his choice.

"Yes, you may."

Erik was not prepared for what happened next. A sudden light appeared in Claire's eyes and a bright smile spread across her face.

"Oh thank you sir!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck giving him a quick hug.

Pulling back he noticed that her smile remained but that she was blushing furiously. Embarrassed, Claire suddenly jumped up from the piano bench and ran out of the room leaving a stunned Erik staring after her in confused silence.

After a few moments a rare genuine smile appeared on his lips.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews...and don't worry...Claire doesn't want to be "just friends" with Erik...please review...the feedback helps. Thanks.


	11. The great debate

Erik let a small chuckle escape his lips when he noticed his copy of Machiavelli's _The Prince_ missing from the shelf. It had been three days since he had given Claire permission to borrow a book and already his copy of _Oedipus_ had been taken and returned.

_Interesting choice of books,_ he thought to himself as he slowly paced the room. _Not exactly what I would imagine a woman would read_. But, then again, he had no idea what women normally read.

Although nothing had changed between them, he had noticed that Claire seemed much happier, humming while she worked as she had upon her arrival. Peeking out of the library window, he could see the tips of the pine trees illuminated by the setting sun, the last rays of light dancing across the leaves which now littered the ground. A little ways from the house, the servants were sitting around a campfire playing cards in the cool September air. Erik quickly noted that Claire was not among them. Pulling the heavy velvet curtain back a little farther, his eyes were drawn immediately to a small flickering light beneath a solitary oak tree that lay across the field. Although he could not see her shape, he knew she was there.

She moved the lantern to the side, allowing Erik to see her small figure leaning against the tree, her shadow stretching across the slope and over the edge until it disappeared from view. Erik was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness. Seeing her sitting there alone tugged at something within him, and he felt a sudden kinship with the girl. After a long while, he decided to go down and speak to her, convincing himself that he was simply bored and that it was not because of his loneliness. As he reached the door the single thought that had plagued his mind for the last three day returned: _She touched me!_

"What are you reading?"

Claire looked up, startled; she hadn't heard him approach.

"_The Prince,_ by Machiavelli," she answered, turning the book to show him the cover.

_He's outside,_ she thought to herself. _I've never seen him outside._

The light of the lantern illuminated his mask and cast the rest of his face into darkness, making it appear as if the mask were simply floating without a body. Claire gave an involuntary shudder, suddenly hoping that Erik had not seen. But Erik's sharp eyes missed nothing.

"Are you cold?" he asked, suppressing the sudden pain that had arisen within him. He knew the true reason she had shuddered.

"Oh, um, no, I-"

Ignoring her answer, Erik unclasped his cloak and wrapped it around her in one fluid motion.

"Oh, thank you!" He caught the surprise in her voice as he sat down beside her.

She pulled the cloak tighter around her, letting her hands gently run over the material. It was both smooth and incredibly soft beneath her touch, and she wondered what it was made of. Finishing her paragraph, she closed the book and gently placed it in her lap.

"Have you read it?" she asked, looking up at Erik.

"Yes" he replied.

Her eyes lit up and she shifted her body in order to face him.

"So, what did you think of his theories?"

He blinked, not anticipating the loaded question. Erik knew that he agreed with many of the writer's ideas, and he knew first hand that fear was an extremely powerful and persuasive tool.

When he did not reply right away, Claire answered her own question. "Well, I think that his theory is very true, and probably correct."

Erik stared at her in complete confusion. She saw the look and smiled.

"However, if a ruler were to act in such a manner he would receive obedience, but not love and respect. Even if he did result in improving the economy of the state and its people, they would still not like him."

"Really? Why?" Erik asked, eager to continue the conversation.

"Well because people do enjoy wealth, but money and state organization is not everything. A ruler should be like a father to the people, since he is, in effect, their protector and law maker and has complete control over their well being. He should love them and show them kindness, but not weakness. People need someone to look up to. If he gives the model of a cruel, cold and calculating man then who will the people have to emanate? A society with out love is no society at all, and people become barbaric."

Erik continued to stare at her in fascinated silence.

"Have you ever heard of the sacred band?" she asked.

Erik shook his head.

"Two general from Thebes created it in ancient times. It was made of 300 hundred men." Claire leaned in closer to Erik and whispered, "150 pairs of male lovers."

Claire leaned back again, blushing slightly. "They fought harder than any army had ever fought before, because of their love for their companions. They were they first army to defeat Sparta in a land battle."

Claire's eyes glittered happily in the candlelight.

"So you see, if a Machiavellian ruler were ever attacked by a strong army he would lose, because his men would be fighting out of fear of retribution, not out of love for their leader. And _that_ is why we were so successful during the revolution, repelling the Prussians and all, because we were fighting for France, because we love her."

Taking a deep breath she sat back and gazed at Erik with a satisfied look on her face.

"What?" she asked when she finally noticed the look on Erik's face.

"Did you come up with that theory just now, all on your own?"

Claire's face suddenly turned angry.

"Yes," she snapped. "Why?"

"Because it was quite remarkable."

She looked away, blushing, a smile stretching across her face. Her smile gave him courage and he decided to attempt a debate.

"And yet," he began, "do you not think that the leader's army would be well trained, and devoid of crippling emotions such as fear?"

"You believe that fear is a crippling emotion?"

"Perhaps" he whispered in a sinister tone.

Claire grew more and more excited as they continued their debate, sitting on her heels and motioning frantically in an attempt to express herself. Erik even found himself becoming excited, and for the first time in his life forgot entirely about his mask.

They remained outside long after the sun had set and the moon had risen. Their discussion was stopped at last by a gust of wind blowing out the lantern, which made Claire stop mid-sentence. Darkness closed in around them, and in the silence they realized that they were both breathing heavily. They gazed at each other for a moment before Claire closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She felt satisfied, having missed such debates since her father died. Erik gasped as he was suddenly struck by her beauty, by the moonlight dancing across her smiling face.

"What?" she asked opening her eyes and glancing around nervously.

While she was looking away, Erik swallowed hard, regaining his composure. He had not meant to gasp out loud.

"Come, we should return to the house," he said huskily.

He stood up and extended a gloved hand to her. Claire grasped it without hesitation, a smile returning to her face. Erik gently pulled her to her feet. Their eyes locked for a moment. Claire saw kindness and joy in his eyes, and something else that she had never seen before, but that was oddly comforting.

"Come," he said, still holding her gaze.

Claire nodded silently, lost in the beauty of his eyes. Finally he turned away and began to lead her back towards the house, turning around to meet her gaze every few feet.

"Oh, wait!" she cried suddenly, letting go of his hand. The mysterious look in Erik's eyes vanished. "The book!"

Running back to the tree, Claire picked up the book. She walked back to where Erik was waiting, his hand still extended toward her.

"Ok, now we can go."

Much to his surprise, Claire placed her hand back in his and allowed him to lead her silently back to the manor.


	12. Just to Listen

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I don't have a lot of work this week...so more posts will be coming soon!

"Claire! Claire, get up, or we're going to be late for church!" Liz cried as she tied her bonnet on.

Claire groaned as the door flew open and Rachel burst into the room.

"My goodness girl, you're not even dressed yet."

She grabbed Claire's corset and, shoving it over her head, began to lace it up violently.

Rubbing the sleep out her eyes Claire, gave a gasp as Rachel tightened the strings. She had been up late last night, reading with Erik. After her piano lesson, they would often go to the library to read or discuss a book. At first, Claire had kept to her room to read, but as soon as Erik realized this, he had given her permission to read in the library.

Over the last couple of weeks, Claire had developed an interest in philosophy and politics. However, the topics and books had become more difficult to understand, and Erik had taken it upon himself to explain the concepts to her. She loved it when he taught her; it was as if a whole new world was opening up right before her eyes. And yet, secretly, she knew it was something more. Although she would never admit it, Claire enjoyed being in Erik's presence. Somehow, he made the rest of the world, along with all her troubles, fade away.

Claire was shaken from her reverie by Rachel slamming her bonnet on her head.

"Ouch!" Claire exclaimed, rearranging it.

"Well, wake up!" Rachel snapped, but then her tone softened. "You've been staying up far too late, _with him," _she whispered. "It's not good, you know. He's not…" She paused, searching for the right word. "Normal," she said, tapping her head.

Claire rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Foolish girl," Rachel muttered, heading for the door.

"Hurry up!" Liz said, grabbing Claire's arm and dragging her out of the room.

Upon entering the church all, the servants took their usual seats near the back. The town was small enough to fit everyone inside the church, and since attendance was regular, people had quickly developed a seating arrangement.

Claire smiled as she picked up the bible in front of her and began to flip through it. She loved Sundays. Although she enjoyed the manor, it sometimes became dark and suffocating, and she enjoyed being able to get out, see people, and wander the town. It reminded her of her life in Paris, before things had gotten bad.

"Well, well, if it isn't Claire! Don't you just look stunning today!"

Claire blushed as a well-dressed gentleman sat down in the pew behind her.

"Why thank you Philippe," she said, half-sarcastically, half-truthfully.

"How have you been this week?" he asked, removing his overcoat.

"Very well thank you. And you?"

"Very well, but not as well as today," he said with a smirk.

Claire gave him a questioning look before turning back around.

"He's so handsome," Liz whispered in her ear. "I'm jealous."

Philippe was a gentleman who had just moved into the town and had taken an interest in Claire. He was polite, yet flirtatious, with soft brown eyes and hair to match. For the last three Sundays, he had escorted Claire, Liz and Rachel around the town after church. When the service ended he was prepared to continue their little tradition, offering Claire his arm and taking them to see the newest dresses that had just arrived from Paris.

Claire closed her book and tried to fall asleep, yet, despite her exhaustion, found that she could not. Her head swam with a thousand thoughts about life, philosophy, Philippe and her future. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts, but it was useless. With a sigh, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. After wrapping a blanket around, her she quietly opened her door and stepped out into the hall.

As she made her way to the piano room she smiled, remembering all the times she had made this trip before. However, since Erik had begun to teach her piano she found that she no longer needed to come up and listen; she would now automatically hear the songs in her head when she lay down to sleep. She knew, however, that tonight it would not help. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, she heard a slow tune coming towards her. Then it stopped for a moment before starting again.

_Perhaps I should knock and ask, _she thought. _He might get angry if I don't. _

Holding her breath Claire gently knocked on the door. The music stopped instantly. Claire gasped, knowing that she had caught him by surprise, an incredibly rare event.

"Yes?" he asked, opening the door and looking frustrated.

Claire stepped back as he loomed above her. "I was wondering if it would be all right if I listened."

Erik gazed at her for a moment and Claire once again found herself lost in his eyes, all her troubles vanishing from her head.

"Yes, it would be all right," he replied softly.

He reached down and took her hand, gently leading her over to the couch. His hand felt warm, yet rough in her own.

Claire sat down and looked around. There were only a few candles lit, casting the room into shadows. Glancing at the piano, she saw that there were music sheets scattered about, and a quill and bottle of ink lay open on the top. The sheet of music on the stand laid half-blank.

_He was composing, _she suddenly realized.

She had been so distracted by the piano that she had forgotten he was still standing there, holding her hand. Staring up at him, she found that he was gazing down at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. Slowly, she pulled her hand away.

"Thank you." She smiled up at him.

Erik nodded silently and returned to the piano. Claire watched as he put his music away and pull out an old sheet of music.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's all right," he replied gently, not turning around.

He didn't dare turn around, for if he did she would have seen the tears that had come to his eyes. No one had ever been so considerate before; no one had shown such simple respect for his music. Instead he put his hands on the keys and began to play an old song.

When he finished he turned back to look at Claire. She was lying on the couch gazing at him, a look of peace and tranquility upon her face. Claire smiled kindly when she saw him look. Erik sighed. This was how it should have been with Christine, if only she hadn't removed his mask. If only, maybe…

Erik pushed the thoughts from his head by beginning a new song.

A few songs later, he turned around again, this time to find Claire sound asleep, curled up in the blanket. He gazed contentedly at her sleeping form for several minutes. She was beautiful in sleep, with her light brown hair framing her smooth tanned skin. At last he stood up and walked to the couch. He was about to pick her up when he stopped. Perhaps he shouldn't. What if she got scared or thought that he was trying to take advantage of her? At last, he decided that it would be best if he woke her up, although it pained him to do so, for she looked so peaceful. He sat down on the very edge of the couch and gently shook her shoulder.

"Claire. Claire," he whispered.

She stirred and opened her eyes. At first she looked frightened, but that quickly vanished when she realized where she was.

"You should go to bed," Erik said, standing up.

Claire nodded sleepily. Sitting up, she put her legs over the edge of the couch and slowly got to her feet. Erik headed for the door and she followed him.

He walked her all the way back to her door. Claire smiled at such a gentlemanly act, for it was not as if she didn't know the way. He stood aside to let her pass. Upon reaching the door, she turned around and looked up at him.

"Good night," she whispered.

She subconsciously opened and closed her hand as if to reach out and touch him, before quickly putting back at her side. Erik noticed and took a small step back.

"Good night," he said quickly, suddenly seeming very uncomfortable. With a quick nod, he turned on his heel and rushed down the hall.

Claire stared after him, confused. As she got into bed, she frowned. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts begin to drift. She didn't know why, but she really wished that he had taken her hand, or given her a hug, or maybe even… and she fell asleep.

Erik raced back to his own room and shut the door, breathing heavily.

_Control, control! _he screamed to himself. The way she had looked at him, the way she had moved her hand… Erik had to get out of there before he did something... something irrational... like kiss her goodnight.


	13. goodnight

A/N: Hey guys...sorry for the super long delay...i've been swamped with schoolwork. Thanks for waiting...enjoy.

"Gently, gently!" Erik let out a frustrated sigh. "You must not pound the keys."

Candlelight flickered across the room, the large drapes hiding all sighs of the chilly September night.

"Sorry," Claire replied, the color rising in her cheeks.

"Play it again," Erik breathed.

Claire began again, her entire focus on the keys in front of her. Erik smiled as he heard the now-soft notes emanating from the piano. As Claire reached the final bar, Erik wiped the smile from his face, not wanting her to see such exposed emotion. He was now very conscious of his expressions; with Christine he never had to worry for she had never been able to see his face while he taught her. He had also never been this physically close to Christine during lessons but with Claire there was no mirror, no barrier, and it made him nervous.

"…sir?" Claire said quietly, looking up at him.

Erik shook the thoughts from his head and gazed back at her.

"There, you see how much better it sounded?"

Claire nodded and smiled shyly.

"Good, then I think that's enough for tonight."

"Ok," Claire replied, standing up.

"Claire…" She looked down at him, a hint of concern in her eyes. "You've improved a great deal. I'm pleased."

He said it plainly and with as little emotion as possible, but Claire still managed to catch the look of joy that flashed in his eyes. She smiled widely, the look of concern vanishing from her own.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he replied softly with a mischievous grin.

Claire swallowed hard and looked at the floor. "What is your name?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Erik blinked in confusion. "Monsieur Renome."

"Oh, I know that, the servants told me that. I mean…" she paused, wringing her hands nervously.

Erik gazed at her intently, his eyes challenging her to speak.

"I mean what's your real name?"

He studied her for a moment, deciding. "Erik."

Claire looked up at him. "Erik," she repeated. "I like it, it suits you."

_It should, _he thought smugly. _I chose it. _"Any more questions?" he asked.

"No," Claire said with a sly smile, "that's enough for tonight."

As soon as she turned and headed towards the door Erik let his anger show on his face. _That's enough for tonight? What's _that_ supposed to mean?_

He didn't like playing these little games when he was not in control. As Claire opened the door and turned back, Erik gazed hungrily at her. The thought of regaining control aroused him, so he decided that he would play along. _Besides,_ he thought, _it won't take very long._

As he made his way towards her, Claire took an involuntary step back, pressing herself against the door. Upon reaching her, Erik bent his head down and moved his lips an inch from her ear.

"Goodnight, Claire," he said in a low slow whisper.

He smiled as her heard her let out a small gasp. Not to be intimidated, she turned her head towards him. "Goodnight Erik," she whispered back.

Erik suppressed a shudder of pleasure as she said his name, impure thoughts racing through his mind.

Giving him one last seductive look, Claire headed out the door and off to bed.


	14. In His Eyes

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the great reviews...and especially to Jaina because I am grammatically challenged.

Upon closing the door, Claire turned around and leaned against it. She put her hand on her chest and took a deep breath; her heart was pounding and her legs were shaking. His power, his presence, his…Claire did not know the words to describe it. Opening her eyes, she gently pushed herself off the door and headed down the hall.

As she began to unbuttoned her dress, Claire caught sight of herself in the mirror. She watched herself grin, wondering where she had gotten the courage to whisper goodnight in return, to say his name.

_Erik,_ she mused. The name evoked images of strength and mystery, _much like him,_ she thought. Glancing back up, Claire found her reflection blushing furiously. She suddenly reached for a robe to cover herself as she changed in an attempt to retain her modesty, even though she knew she was alone.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, her girlish thoughts vanished and reason returned.

_Don't be stupid,_ her mind screamed. _You can't possibly like him like that, he's your master and you are nothing but a silly servant girl. _

Claire rolled over and pressed her face into the pillow, muffling her cry of frustration at the unexpected turns her life had taken.

_Besides, _reason added more softly now, _he doesn't even like you like that, he was just toying with you. And anyways, I'll never be able to love a man, to have a husband, after what my stepfather did to me. _

Claire closed her eyes and let the tears run down her soft cheeks. She cried because deep down inside she knew that reason was right.

Their next few piano lessons together were awkward. Claire was shy and timid, not having the courage to ask any new questions. Erik noticed this right away, and wondered where the brave, sensual Claire of two weeks ago had vanished to. Although he would not admit it, even to himself, he was worried that he had frightened her. He hoped though that perhaps she had simply run out of questions to ask him, but he doubted it, for Claire always had questions. Yet despite her recent shyness, Erik sensed that she seemed more relaxed than before and he smiled as she played, relived that she was past his old outburst.

Something, though, was still nagging at him. She would now look him in the face, but refused to meet his gaze since that night. Maybe she though that he would hypnotize her with his searing gaze. Suddenly, the image of a doe-eyed Christine entered his consciousness, and he smiled sadly at the memory.

Claire finished the piece and looked up at him expectantly, only to find him looking distant and sad. The look in his eyes reflected such immense pain and grief that she felt her heart break, and she could not force herself to look away. Slowly she reached out her hand and was about to lay it on his, when he woke from his reverie. The instant he looked at her he yanked his hand back, disgusted by the look of pity in her eyes.

"Don't touch me," he growled, standing up.

Claire pulled her hand away as though she'd been burned. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, confusion evident in her voice. "It's just that you looked so sad, and…"

"Well, I've had a sad life, and I don't want your pity or anybody else's," he spat. He turned towards the fireplace leaving Claire staring at him in shocked silence.

Erik squeezed his eyes shut in anger. _Why did I tell her that? I didn't even make her work for an answer._** _How could I make myself so vulnerable to her?_ **He opened his eyes and, grabbing the nearest candelabra, threw it into the fire.

Claire gasped and stood up. Erik turned to face her, his fiery eyes burning with rage.

"Get out!" he bellowed.

Claire opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it.

"Get out!" he screamed again, taking a few menacing steps towards her.

Claire's look of shock turned to one of fear, and she bolted from the room.


	15. Understanding

Claire jumped to her feet, the washcloth held tightly in her hands.

"You seem rather spooked today," Rachel said, closing the library door softly behind her.

Claire gave her a nervous smiled before continuing to scrub the floor. She _had_ been very jumpy since Erik's outburst the previous night.

"What happened?" Rachel walked over and put a hand gently on Claire's shoulder.

"Nothing, nothing happened."

"Claire," Rachel said in a stern, motherly voice. "What did you do to make him so mad?"

Claire stopped scrubbing and sat back on her heels.

"I looked at him."

Rachel's eyes widened in a look of fear and wonder.

"Beneath the mask?" she whispered breathlessly.

"No," Claire snapped. "Of course not. I just looked at him the wrong way and he got angry."

Rachel gave her a puzzled look.

"Never mind," Claire sighed, shoving the washcloth back into the bucket.

Frankly, Claire found herself becoming rather exasperated with Erik's behaviour. He was cold one moment, seductive the next, and at anytime he could erupt into a dangerous rage. Claire had had enough fear in her life and she decided that she did not have the energy to be afraid of him or deal with his emotions. She would simply do her job as a servant and avoid him as much as possible—no more readings, debates or piano lessons. Claire would look for true friendship elsewhere.

"So."

"So?" Claire replied, glancing up at Paul with a blank look on her face.

That night, the servants sat in the kitchen enjoying their free time. Claire, Liz and Rachel were working on their embroidery while Paul and Jean played cards.

"So, what happened last night?" Paul finally ventured to ask.

"Yeah, the Master's got you pretty spooked," Jean added.

"Nothing happened," Claire replied casually, not even looking up.

Claire knew that the servants had been whispering about Erik's outburst all day, but she had done her best to avoid them and their questions. However, now she seemed trapped and it was too late.

"Did he try to take advantage of you?" Liz asked wide eyed.

"NO!"

"Did he attack you?" Jean asked.

"NO!"

"Did he hurt you in any way, my dear?" Rachel asked.

"NO!"

"Did you take off his mask?" Liz sat on the edge of her seat, her knuckles grasping the edge of the chair.

"No," Claire replied, quietly this time.

As Claire looked around the room at all of their nervous, eager faces, she understood. They had asked those questions because that was the type of man they thought he was. Just because he wore a mask, they assumed that he was some sort of murder, rapist and that the only reason she spent time with him is because he hurt and threatened her. It did not matter that he was a gentleman or that he was wealthy, all that mattered was that he wore a mask, that he was not normal. In any other household, the servants would not dare to ask such questions or even make such assumptions. They feared him, but they did not respect him. He had hated her pity because to him it had meant that she too saw only the mask and not a man. That she shared the assumptions and beliefs of the other servants, of the world.

Suddenly Claude stormed through the door a look of tense excitement on his old face.

"Something's going on up there," he said slowly, savouring this juice bit of information. "I think he's lost it."

Claire could see the delight in his eyes as he watched the faces of his friends change from curiosity to excitement.

"Really?" Jean asked.

"He's screaming and banging and breaking things."

Rachel sighed. "Shouldn't someone go check on him? He's a little unstable, and he may hurt himself."

"Are you crazy?" Liz asked.

"Well, if he kills himself, there's no more food on the table for us," she snapped back.

A nervous silence fell over the group.

"I'll go," Claire said at last. "But not because I'm worried about the money."

Everyone else muttered an encouragement.

With a determined look on her face, Claire opened the kitchen door and set off down the hall.

A/N: Sorry guys, I know…no Erik in this chapter…but don't worry…there will be plenty of him in the next one! Thanks to everyone for all their reviews!


	16. His Muse

As Claire made her way down the hall, she stopped at the supply closet and picked up a broom and a dust pan. Claude had said that Erik was smashing things, so she assumed that she'd have a lot to clean up. Claire slowly climbed the stairs, her blood pounding in her ears. Suddenly, the silence was broken as Erik let out a cry of utter anguish. His voice was filled with such pain and loss that Claire involuntarily clutched her chest, fearing that his cry would break her heart.

When she reached the door, she stood outside it for several moments, too afraid to go in. Claire heard glass shatter upon the floor, a chair skid across the room and Erik's pained cries.

"Why? Why?" he howled.

Claire could picture him looking towards the heavens, his fists clenched in anger. Finally, when she heard him give a quiet sob of defeat, she knocked on the door. When he didn't answer, she slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. Normally, she would never enter without his permission, but she feared for his safety.

The room was dark, lit only by the light of a single, tall candle. Erik was sitting hunched over on the piano bench, facing away from her, his head in his hands. His hair was messy and his clothes untucked, so unlike the perfectly composed gentleman he usually presented. Claire let her eyes sweep over the room, taking in the bits of glass and ink that littered the floor. On the top of the piano sat a broken quill and several shredded sheets of music.

Claire stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her. She headed towards the nearest shards of glass and began to sweep them up, Erik never taking any notice of her presence.

"Lost," he muttered quietly.

Claire froze, her breath caught in her throat.

"I can't write anymore." He paused. "My music," he sobbed, sounding as if it had just died.

Claire leaned on her broom, gazing at him, a small sad smile on her face. She understood at once what was wrong: he hadn't lost his mind, he had lost his muse.

Turning back to the mess, she continued to sweep it up. As she moved from pile to pile she could hear Erik's quiet weeping. It brought tears to her eyes to see a man so strong and powerful so pained and defeated. Once she finished sweeping and mopping up the glass and ink, she got to her feet and simply watched him. His face was still buried in his hands, but his sobs had become quieter and his body trembled less. Her eyes drifted to the broken quill and, taking a deep breath, Claire knew what needed to be done.

Putting down her broom, she made her way to the desk at the far end of the room and took out a new quill and a fresh bottle of ink. Then she returned to the piano and placed them on top while removing the old quill and ripped sheet music. She began to shuffle through Erik's papers until she found some blank sheets of music and tentatively placed them on the piano stand. All the while, Erik silently watched her. When she was finished, she stood back to look at him. Erik looked up at her, and their eyes met. This time her eyes held no pity, only compassion and understanding.

It took all of Claire's strength to gaze back. His bright blue eyes were illuminated by the light of the candle, and seemed to hold more sadness then she had thought was possible to bear. She felt moved, she felt his pain reach inside and touch her soul. Letting her emotions take control, Claire walked towards him and gently took his face in her hands. Using her thumbs she tenderly wiped away his tears, remembering with a slight shock that one side was dry because of the mask. Erik closed his eyes and leaned his head back. For that single, brief moment, he was at peace. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at her again. His face remained devoid of emotion, but his eyes now held a hint of curiosity.

"You will find your muse," she whispered.

Claire did not see the look of astonishment on his face. Instead, she broke their gaze and, leaning forward, placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Erik slowly sucked in a breath as he felt her soft lips upon his flesh. They both closed their eyes, overcome by emotion. After a moment Claire pulled away, and, giving him a small smile of encouragement, picked up her broom and quietly slipped out of the room.

Erik remained motionless, his eyes still closed. A single tear rolled down his unmarked cheek. Brushing it away he roughly, snatched up the quill and began to write furiously. Claire was right: he had found his muse, and this time he would not let her go.


	17. A New Song

"Claire!" Erik called from the top of the stairs.

Claire set down the basket of clothes and looked up.

"Come," he said softly, extending his hand. "I have a new song for you to learn."

"Now?"

Erik nodded, his blue eyes glittering with excitement.

"But-but the laundry's wet, and it needs to be hung up," Claire called up tentatively. He had been in such a good mood for the last few days, and she didn't want to ruin it.

"Rachel can do it," he replied casually. "Rachel!" he called, letting his voice drift across the house.

After a few moments Rachel emerged from the kitchen, brushing flour off her skirt.

"Go take the laundry outside and hang it up."

Rachel gave Erik a small curtsy and, as she picked up the basket, she gave Claire a dirty look and promptly stomped out of the room. As soon as she disappeared around the corner, Claire headed up the stairs towards Erik. When she reached the top, he carefully took hold of her hand and led her into the piano room.

"Here," he said, placing a sheet of music in front of her.

"Can you play it for me once, so that I can hear what it's supposed to sound like?" she asked with a laugh.

Erik nodded ever so slightly and Claire slid down to the edge of the piano bench to give him room. Placing his hands gently over the keys, he began to play. Claire closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. The song was beautiful; it was calm and filled with hope. She was swaying slightly, and her arm brushed against Erik's as his hand moved up the keys. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and gazed at him. She loved to watch him play. The look on his face was one of such love, such longing that she was always filled with the urge to embrace him and to have him hold her in his arms in return. Closing her eyes again, she slowly rested her head on his shoulder. Erik gave a start and misplayed a note. Claire smiled and listened as he regained his composure. She could feel the muscles in his shoulder moving gracefully as he coaxed the music from the instrument. When the song ended, Claire opened her eyes and looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly and the muscles in his shoulder were tense.

"It was beautiful." She raised her head. "Everything you write is."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What's it called?"

Erik's head shot up. Claire watched as he swallowed, and she knew he was thinking of a name.

"Light," he said at last.

"Light," Claire repeated. "I like it."

Their gazes met and locked. Erik could not pull away. He had never been this close to a woman for so long, especially not such a beautiful one. She had rested her head on his shoulder and not shuddered. She had touched him, kissed him. _Perhaps soon, _he thought, _it will be time to do something for her in return. _

Finally breaking the gaze, Erik turned back to the piano and shifted down the bench.

"Now it is your turn to learn to play it."

"All right," Claire agreed with a smile.

She liked happy Erik. She _really_ liked him.

"Like that?" Claire asked, finishing up the second page.

"Almost."

"Erik?"

"Yes?" he replied, nervously awaiting her question.

Claire fidgeted with the edge of her dress.

Erik took a deep breath; it was a big question.

"Can I see beneath your mask?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

Erik's hand instantly flew to his mask and he backed up defensively. He knew that this day would come.

"No," he snapped.

Claire sat there studying him for a moment before deciding to reply. She could see the panicked fear in his eyes.

"All right," she replied with a shrug. Erik blinked at her in amazement. "When you're ready."

Erik remained frozen on the spot, the look of disbelief etched on his face. Slowly, Claire reached up and laid her hand over the hand that covered the mask.

"It's all right," she whispered, inching closer. "I'm not going to pull it off."

Wrapping her small fingers around his large hand she carefully pulled it away from the mask and laid his hand down in his lap. Giving his hand a small squeeze, she smiled and let out a soft laugh.

"Erik, it's all right." She giggled. "You know, if you keep your face that way, the wind will come and it will freeze like that."

Erik frowned, obviously confused by her comment.

"What? Didn't anyone ever tell you that?" she asked earnestly.

Erik shook his head.

"Oh, well." She shrugged again. "It doesn't matter, it's not true anyway. This one time my friend Becca and I tried to stay like this—" Claire pulled the corner of her eyes up—"for hours to see if we could look like this girl Ling that we knew…but it didn't work and our parents got mad at us because they thought that we were making fun of her. Even though we weren't," Claire added defiantly, her eyes shinning.

Erik let his body relax and allowed himself a small smile as he watched her tell her story. When she finished, he let out a small melodious laugh. He treasured seeing these rare glimpses of her youth, of her life before she had met him. Claire never talked about her past; parts of it seemed to deeply frighten her and so she avoided it whenever possible. At times she could seem so old and tired, but at others, at times like these, Erik was reminded of just how young she was, how full of life.

"Claire?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied playfully.

"How old are you?"

Claire smiled at him.

"Tell the truth," he added sternly.

"19," she said.

Suddenly his mind began to wander back to Christine. How old would she be now?

_NO! _he thought, shutting thoughts of her out of his mind. He didn't want his memory of her to ruin this moment.

"Let's keep playing," he said, turning back to the piano and flipping the page.

A/N: There you go guys...a longer chapter…hahaha. Enjoy. I know not much happened in this one…but don't worry…there will be LOTS of action in the next one!


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